


The Rose of Thornfield

by LadyOfDoom



Category: Hellsing, Jane Eyre - All Media Types
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe, Blood Drinking, Crossover, F/M, Master/Servant, Sexual Tension, Shapeshifting, Vampires, governess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfDoom/pseuds/LadyOfDoom
Summary: When Integra Fairbrook leaves Lowood School for the North, she becomes the governess at the manor house Thornfield Hall. Relieved to be freed from a place of anguish, the young woman welcomes a new beginning.Soon enough, the guardian of her pupil Seras, seems to find the reserved woman more and more endearing. Integra is unsure how to approach the strange Mr. Rochester, his bizarre moods and the peculiar happenings surrounding the estate.Crossover: Hellsing / Jane EyreNot necessary to know either story to read.(Only slowly progressing but definitely gonna finish this work! Plot stands!)





	1. The Beast of the North

 

~ ~ ~

 

 

 

_A rose by any other name would smell as sweet._

 

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

 

 

The days got shorter and the winds colder. Thornfield Hall had been a trist and gloomy place when Integra first arrived. After the past month the manor house only appeared to be getting darker. Tutoring young Miss Victoria was the sole reason she stayed as calm as she did. With the first winter winds her new home started to feel like a cold and howling prison. One she had chosen for herself, when deciding to leave Lowood School to be a governess in a private household. In this case, the household of Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester, a man she had yet to meet.

She was looking out the windows of the upper parlour, the room she usually was tutoring Seras in during the morning hours. It was just one of many old and cold living rooms the great house had to offer. The afternoon was grey but dry. A feeling of unrest gnawed at her chest. Something that went not past Mr. Walter Dornez, the old Butler of the mansion.

“Miss Fairbrook?”

Integra jumped. “Yes?”

He smiled and raised his hand. “These letters need posting today.” Walter walked towards her, handing her the envelopes. “I thought it might be a good change of pace. I see you staring into the distance more and more. I hope you do not regret your decision to come here.” He smiled kindly. “I know how the hours can seem long and lonely in this old house.”

Integra had grown fond of the head of the household. He was the one who had hired her. On her day of arrival, she had mistaken him for the owner of the estate. The butler had laughed a great deal over her error, but she did not hold a grudge. He was one of the few people on Thornfield, whose company she enjoyed. Or rather, he was one of the few people present on Thornfield.

“Thank you.” Integra took the letters. “That might be exactly what I need. It is true. I am getting restless.” All the reasons for why she did would have been no conversation to be had with an elderly acquaintance. Integra’s feelings of confinement did not spring from these walls, but the restrains society put on her as a women. There was so much she wanted to do, learn and accomplish but forced to merely dream about. “Do not worry,” she replied truthfully. “I am not planning to leave anytime soon.”

Walter nodded approvingly. Take care not to be too long. It gets dark earlier and earlier. Make sure to be back at six.”

“Not to be bitten by the Beast of the North, I bet.” Integra smiled and raised an eyebrow as well as the book she was holding. It was one Seras had been obsessing over, containing stories of the area. The voice of the young girl echoed within Integra’s mind: _The Beast roams these hills. The spirit of the North that lays in the way of the travelers. It tenants the carcasses of beasts, possesses horses and wolfs and great dogs. You can only recognize it by its eyes, which burn as red as coals._

A shadow flashed over the Butlers face. Just for a short moment. Then he smiled his most obliging smile. “Better not.”

The governess headed for her bedroom to change.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The way to town went through the foggy forest of the surroundings. Although there had not been any rain that day, the path was wet and muddy. Integra realized soon enough she would need longer than expected to reach her destination. Yet, she decided to go on and take the risk of returning late. She felt like she needed the air, like she was suffocating staying inside the house all day.

Step after step she heard nothing but her feet in the mud, her breath leave her lungs and few birds and animals venturing the undergrowth. But then even these turned quiet.

Nothing else.

Until she reached a folk in the road.

One path leading deeper into the forest, the other out of it. She had taken the latter a few times since she came here. The other one she did not have had the opportunity to. She would not have paid it any mind, if it was not for a strange growl. Integra came to an abrupt stop. Something utterly black stirred her attention towards the other road. She held on to her bonnet to easier turn her head.

A great, dark wolf had its teeth locked into the flesh of a lifeless body. Blood oozing out the torn skin. Glowing red eyes fixing Integra on the spot. She tried to make sense of the cold, disfigured flesh. Tried to fit whatever part to match her understanding of a human being. Apart from few limps and fabric she was not able to fit the picture of red disarray with anything she had ever seen. Only the terror of realization helped her overcome her stupor.

When their eyes locked, the dreadful animal turned quiet and simply starred at her out of glowing red. Now that she was moving, so did it. Integra simply turned around and run.

Run for her life.

She cursed the muddy road her shoes kept getting stuck in, so she moved towards mossy, overgrown ground. If she had not been pumped with adrenaline and fear, she might have seen the irony in encountering a beast within these woods right after making fun of an old legend.

She turned around and saw the wolf heading away from the road as well, into the woods, to cut off her path. Her bonnet came loose but Integra did not hesitate. She changed direction, held up her skirts and run even faster. Although she knew there was no outrunning the predator she still had to try. Her instincts made her.

She could hear it change direction again, and saw the black smutch in the corner of her eye. It was fast.

Way too fast.

She reached the point, where she figured the animal would cross her path and make a jump for her throat.

But nothing happened.

Integra kept moving. Looking back, there was no sombre haunter to be seen. No growling, no paws on wet ground. Yet, she did not stop to check if the beast was toying with her, tricking her. She kept moving further into the woods. Towards another path, leading around the forest and to town, or Thornfield or anyone who would help her escape the foggy undergrowth and its harmful predator.

She sent a silent prayer to thank the saints, when she saw an opening within the trees. While stumbling through it, she checked behind herself once angain, making sure she was alone. But she was not anymore. When she finally stepped onto the road a loud, fearful neigh startled her. Integra turned around and fell back, looking up at the underside of a black horse. She raised her arms to protect her face from the impact of the hooves.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The front feet of the impressive animal, landed right next to her, splashing her blue coat and now open hair with mud. Integra crawled away from the nervously pattering hooves, holding one hand to her chest, using the other to steady herself.

“Calm. Calm. Good boy.” The great horse turned and revealed a surprised rider. “Are you alight, Miss?”

Integra needed another few heartbeats before she could utter anything resembling words. “I—” She had to breathe out very slowly, to regain her countenance. “I was— I am so sorry, Sir. I was in the woods. And there was— The beast— I mean— A wolf. A wolf was following me.” She locked into the forest, only trees and bushes starred back. The memory of the red, knowing eyes made her shiver. _Like coals._

The stranger looked down at her, his dark brows raised in amused confusion. “There have been no wolfs in these woods for centuries, Miss. You must be mistaken.”

Integra managed to stand up and get a good look at the sombre haired gentleman. An interested smile was on his lips, a dark mustache accompanying it. He was sitting perfectly upright in the saddle of the majestic stallion. The good build of the forty-something stranger fit his expensive, red coat perfectly. Although the horse was still somewhat nervous, its ears flapping around to every sound, Integra was confident enough to make a step towards it.

“No—” Integra disagreed. “I am not. It was there. I swear I saw it.”

“Really, Miss.” He shook his head apologetic. “I know these woods. And there are no wolfs, no beasts, just larks and foxes.”

“No.” Integra said it with more vigour. “There was a wolf. It has killed— There was a body. It has killed—“ The governess swallowed fearful. “Somebody—”

Concern replaced the amusement in his features. “Well then.” He reached behind himself and took a rifle in hand. Integra had not noticed it before. “If there truly is a wolf in these woods, will you show me where you found it? In case you are not mistaken, I won't have it running around attacking people.”

Integra nodded hesitantly. Only now she noticed how her dress was covered in mud from the run and the fall. Her hair fell unseemly messy over her shoulders. She felt embarrassed. Cautious, she reached for the bridle. Since she had never been comfortable around horses it took her a moment. But just when she got to grab it, the gentleman dismounted and took them from her. For a fleeting moment he pressed one gloved hand to her shaking wrist. Integra noticed her hands were dirty and trembling.

While he let go of her and started leading the horse, he explained: “I will not ride alongside you, Miss. That would be unthinkably rude.” He pointed the rifle towards the way Integra had come from, reins in the other hand. “Will you lead the way?”

Integra did so without another word. His apparent amusement in the pursuit of something Integra found so appallingly awful made her fall silent. She stumbled though the undergrowth hesitantly searching for the way. She looked around with caution, falling back every time she felt the gentleman was too far away. When she finally spotted the bath she had taken towards the town earlier, her step fastened. “This way.”

She only stopped to pick-up her bonnet. Once reaching the parting in the pathway, she walked towards the one leading deeper into the forest. But when she turned to examine it, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Integra straightened her glasses to make sure it was not an issue of her sight.

“Well?” The gentleman asked when Integra stopped without further reaction. “Where is it?”

Integra looked up and down the trail. There was nothing. No body. Not even blood or clothing or anything that hinted at what she had seen earlier.

“But that is impossible.” She uttered in disbelieve. “It was here. I saw it.”

The stranger rested the rifle on his shoulder and turned towards her. “Is that how you lure strange man deeper into the woods? Asking for help, so you can devour them whole?” His smile widened and suddenly seemed somewhat mischievous.

Integra was so shocked over this joke that she backed away and almost stumbled. “No, Sir. I— It was just here. Right there.” She pointed along the way.

The stranger shook his head but kept his good humour. “You must have read too many gothic novels, Miss. What was it? The Beast of the North?”

Integra turned around in alert. “Why would you say that?”

He seemed to be amused over her disarray. “You are clearly not around these parts, Miss. You would not be the first one to take these old fairy tales too seriously.” He laughed. “It’s the weather. The short days. The long nights. It makes a man, or women, see strange things.”

“It might.” Integra fixed the exact point she had seen the beast and its pray earlier. Indeed, Seras had a bizarre liking for gruesome stories. Integra had used this interest to encourage her pupil to learn proper reading and writing. Maybe the governess had been listening to too many of these stories. But was that possible? To be fooled this believably by one’s own mind? In dreams, most certainly. But in broad daylight?

“If there is nothing else, I will be off.” The gentleman mounted the waiting horse. “Make sure not to walk these woods much longer, Miss. Wolfs or not. It might get dangerous at night and who knows what else might lurk within this forest.” His words were meant to carry concern. But his smile delivered a morbid warning instead.

She nodded and watched him ride down the path towards Thornfield Hall. Gun on his broad back. What a peculiar man she had met. Only when he was out of earshot, she noticed he had not given his name and did not ask for hers. How rude of him. How rude of her. Integra looked away.

The governess remembered the waiting letters in her dress pocket. She would post them. After all it was why she had come here.

She wrapped her west tightly around her torso and moved away from the harmful memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just something I have been cooking up in my head over the past year. Would you guys enjoy reading a story like this? Fans of both fandoms might be able to speculate where the plot goes. Still, I hope to have some surprises up my sleeve.
> 
> Update: Although I have read the book, my main base is the 2011 movie version of Jane Eyre. Again, it is not needed to know the original stories but I dearly love the movie and can only recommend watching it. The story Integra recalls at the beginning of the chapter is actually quoted from the movie (with minor changes).


	2. A Restless Captive

“Where have you been?” Walter came rushing towards Integra when she reached the second floor. The house was dark, there were candlelight and fire glow shining into the hallway from a room usually not occupied. “I have been worried, Miss Fairbrook. Is everything alight?”

Integra nodded and had to smile over the genuine concern Walter seemed to have. “Yes, I am very sorry. The roads are hard to walk. It took me longer than expected.” She had chosen not to tell the butler about the strange coincidence that had occurred earlier. She was almost certain now, that her mind had played tricks on her. It must have been. The alternative was too horrid to entertain. “The letters are posted.”

“Perfect.” Walter was relieved and smiled as well. “Thank you very much.” He raised the candle holder in his hand to get a better look at her. When he noticed her muddy clothes and crazy hair falling out of her bonnet, he warned: “You might want to change before entering the living room. This one.” He pointed towards the fire glow. “You won't believe it, I believe it hardly myself, but Master Rochester has arrived earlier this evening. Seven months nothing but a letter and suddenly he is standing on the doorstep. But that is how he always shows up and rushes off again. That is why we keep the house always in such good order. He seems to be in good humour. But he had a strange encounter while riding through the woods. Some weird, confused woman. You might want to make a good first impression on him. After all he is Miss Victoria’s custodian and your employer.”

Integra fell silent. Her attention wandered in direction of the inviting shine. “Of course I will change,” she was able to utter after a moment. “First impressions can be very important.” With her head held up high, she took the offered candle holder from Walter and moved upstairs into her room. The old servant looked after her, somewhat confused over her concerned reaction.

Shortly after, Integra had managed to change into her pretties dress. One that was not much better than the other two dresses she possessed, but at least it was clean. With her hair neatly pinned up, her glasses sitting perfectly and her face freed from mud, she stepped into the awaiting living room.

Of course her suspicions immediately turned out to be true, when she recognized the gentleman sitting in front of the fireplace. It was the same strange, dark haired man she had encountered within the woods only a few hours ago.

“Miss Fairbrook, I presume?” He spoke before even seeing her, while sitting with his back towards the door. But after he spoke, he got up to greet her. A smile on his lips, the stranger sized her interested. With a silent gesture he asked the governess to take place in the armchair opposite him, standing on the other side of the fire place.

Seras was sitting next to the gentleman on the floor, apparently telling him one of her favourite stories. When she heard Integra enter, she jumped up and rushed to take the hand of her teacher. “Miss, Miss! Mr Rochester has come home. He has been gone for so long!”

Integra was cautious while stepping closer, dragged along by her pupil. Meanwhile her employer sat down once more. When the governess dared to sit as well his gaze wandered towards her. Despite the long journey Integra concluded he must have had, he seemed in best humour. Just like this afternoon, a smirk was glued to his face.

Once more self-aware, Integra was thankful Walter had asked her to change. The man in front of her clearly had. „So you finally arrived.” He grabbed a glass of wine that was waiting on a small table right next to him. „I feared the wolf had gotten to you after all.”

„Wolf?” Seras giggled. „What wolf? There’re non in our forest. Harriett told. Ain‘t that right?” The girl had waited next to Integra, while the woman sat down. Now, she wanted to run up to her maid.

„Miss Seras.” Integra gently grabbed the end of the blond girl’s dress, to stop her from running off. „Language.”

Seras smile slipped for a moment, her blue eyes filled with remembrance. She stood still and folded her hands over her lab. „Dear Harriett told me...” She looked around the room. „...there are no such creatures within the forests of our great country.” Seras was considering every word before uttering it. “So it seems very unlikely, if not impossible, Miss Fairbrook, with all due respect, that you would encounter such a creature.” Integra nodded proudly, but more to approve the execution of these words than their massage. Seras answered with a proud smile.

The governess did not know much about the circumstances, in which the charming eleven year old had become the ward of the owner of Thornfield. She only knew that Seras’ mother had died few seasons back. The curious and lovely girl had been living on the streets of London for the following years and adopted the peasant’s accent. It was Integra’s job not just to make up for the lack of education Seras had experienced so far, but further rid the girl off any foul language. Something, Integra knew, would only ever be possible on the surface, since language like that would always linger and wither, just like an infestation.  

„That is exactly what I told Miss Fairbrook as well.” Mr Rochester was clearly amused over Integra’s correction and Seras’ efforts so sound polite. With these words, the governess’ attention shifted back to him. “She would not believe me.”

Their eyes met for a moment. His smile did not falter. She had noticed his gaze before, while entering. It made her uncomfortable. He looked at her like she was an open book. Like he could not just see her mind, but her soul as well. Like every ridge and crack of her essence, even those she did not dare to approach herself, were laid bare in front of him. She looked away and hardly noticed his smile widening. Then again, it was just the silly notion of a woman not accustomed to being in the presence of men.

“I guess I must have been seeing things from too many horrid stories.” Integra uttered before her mouth became a thin line. It must have been that.

“Did you see the beast?” Seras jumped up. “Its red eyes? Was it there, then gone? Just like in the stories?”

Integra was hesitant. “I saw… something. But since the two of you pointed out so unmistakably the lack of wolfs in this area, it must have been a dog or a deer or something similarly tall. And my mind chose to make something else out of it.”

“No that’s the beast!” Seras whispered with a warning but playful voice. “It makes you doubt your own sanity.” She nodded understanding and seemed compassionate towards her teacher.

Mr Rochester suddenly laughed out loud and patted Seras on the shoulder. “I see. Your obsession with those stories has not gotten lesser since my last stay. But we should not be talking about those things. I dare say Miss Fairbrook has turned white as a sheet just now.” Integra noticed she was fiddling with her hands nervously. She folded them in her lab. “What has changed, however, seems to be Seras’ rotten pronunciation. No doubt due to your tutoring.”

Seras smiled gleefully, but before she was able to answer, Walter was stepping closer and handed tea to both Integra and Mr Rochester. Latter looked up and raised his free hand. “Thank you, but I am content.” As to prove his point he drank from his glass of wine. Walter nodded and instead gave the second cup to Seras.

“Miss Fairbrook is indeed a great asset to our household, Sir.” The old butler had gathered enough from the conversation since Integra had entered, to conclude that the governess had been the strange woman Mr Rochester had encountered in the woods. “She is not just a great teacher for Miss Seras but also a splendid aide around the house. I dare say she has made herself indispensable.”

“Thanks Walter.” Mr Rochester waved the butler away. It was the first time something resembling annoyance crept into his demeanour. “I am perfectly capable to gain a sense over the advantages and disadvantages that Miss Fairebrook’s employment holds. Your insights, if appreciated, are not necessary.”

Surprised, Walter leaned away and looked confused from his Master to Miss Fairbrook. “Of cause I was not implying otherwise, Sir.” The governess smiled at him fondly. She understood he was trying to help her out of this awkward situation. The butler nodded helpful as always, but started to withdraw from a conversation he was clearly not wanted in. Seres was still standing next to Integra and toying with the cotton lace of her teachers dress sleeve, between taking sips of tea. With a wink of his wine glass Mr Rochester commanded the butler to take the girl with him.

Walter did not hesitate and uttered obliging but clearly bewildered: “Miss Seras. I believe Mr Rochester brought something for you from his long journey. Would you like to open it?”

Seras’ face lid up in surprise. “Of course, I would. I would love it! Thank you, Sir. Thank you so much!” She smiled at her custodian, before following the butler with happy jumps to another part of the room. Even though his appearance did not suggest otherwise, Integra suspected Walter was as offended by Mr Rochester’s words, as Seras was joyful.

Only when butler and child had disappeared from his line of sight Mr Rochester resumed the conversation in better humour: “So, tell me then, Miss. From whence do you hale? What is your tale of woe?”

Integra had looked after her two companions. Her attention returned once more to her employer.

“Pardon?” She finally uttered after a moment of repeating the words in her mind.

“Every governess has some tale of woe. What is yours?” Mr Rochester put down his glass and leaned forward.

His intense glare made Integra only feel more uncomfortable. But she knew she did not have the luxury of refusing him an answer. Instead she decided not to let him reduce her to her employment. “I was brought up by my aunt Mrs Reed of Gateshead. In a house even finer than this,” she uttered after clearing her throat. “I then attended Lowood School, where I received as good an education as I could hope for. I have no tale of woe, Sir.” With that she took a sip from the cup and put it down on a similar table standing next to her armchair.

Her dismissive demeanour did not seem to bother him in the least. “Where are your parents?”

“Dead.” Integra uttered without delay, as she had so many times before.

Mr Rochester nodded rather agreeing than sympathetic. “Do you remember them?”

Integra hat always felt uncomfortable talking about her past, especially her childhood and the happenings that led to the life she was leading now. “I remember my father. He died after a long sickness, when I was six years old.”

Another of his impassive nods. “And why are you not with Mrs Read of Gateshead now?”

The young governess had to swallow. Of course he would ask. “She cast me off, Sir.”

His smile returned. Integra was not sure if for the circumstances of her youth, or the fact that he was able to draw her out. “Why?”

Now holding back a decade old rage she answered as calm as possible: “Because she blamed me for the death of her husband.”

The man sitting opposite her, aglow by the shine of a pleasant fire, laughed a similar pleasant laugh.

“Is that funny to you?” The blond woman almost got up. But she was no child anymore and her past easily enough to figure out by other means than questioning her. If he wanted to know these things he might have send someone to learn them. Instead he chose to torture her with the past she was running away from. Of course, she knew he tried to figure out her character. Showing him her weak spots was not what she needed or what he deserved. So instead of leaving, she adjusted her perfectly aligned glasses and looked down.

His hand silenced his laugh in an almost apologizing manner. His words, however, were tainted with a smile. “No tale of woe?” Integra had no time to react. She had hardly time to swallow her anger before he asked: “Did you kill him?” 

Integra’s head shot up but she kept staring down. “What?”

“Your uncle.” He leaned forward some more and tried to gain back the attention of the young woman. Her blue eyes were glued to the complex pattern on the carpet. Yet, he knew she did not perceive it at all. “Was it your fault he died?”

“No!” Integra almost shouted. The governess had been avoiding his gaze. Now she looked up.  Her tensed up hand twitched and bumped against the small table. The tea spoon fell down and made a dull sound on the expensive fabric. Their gaze had met only a split-second, before being distracted by the metal object. Integra did not dare too look up again. She could not stand his judging expression and focused on the fire instead. Was he judging? Or was it just what she was accustomed to see in people when talking about her uncle. “It was an accident.”

“What happened?” Knowing she would not give any other reaction if not persuaded somehow, he got up and forced Integra to give him her undivided attention by raising her chin with a light fingertip. She clearly did not approve, but she neither stopped him. His now compassionate smile confused her even more than his questions. There was no judgment. No distrust. Instead he showed genuine interest.

Hazy pictures of blood and darkness sprang into her head. Shadows of memories she wanted to forget so desperately. Some seemed to originate from this very afternoon. When she finally answered honestly, she was calm: “I—” Her chin moved, shying away from his unfamiliar touch and he let go of her. “I don’t remember.”

Taking a step back he asked: “What did they say happened?”

After hearing his questions so far, she was neither surprised over this inquiry nor the crudely manner he was putting them. “His rifle… I mean shot gun. It had a malfunction. It blew up in his face.” She was still nervous about guns to this day and tried to avoid them at all times. Integra realized that she had not shown this reaction when meeting Mr Rochester earlier this day. She must have been in such great shock over seeing the beast— the wolf— the dog— it must have been a dog— that she had not minded it.

“And?”  His hand gesture demanded her to continue.

For a moment she figured not to, but what use was it to stop now. “I was the only one present.” Again pictures shot though her mind. More clear this time, of the weeks after the incident. “My aunt saw the fault in me. Thought me responsible. So, she sent me away.”

Sitting down again Mr Rochester leaned back and folded his arms and legs. He seemed to think about the words just heard. It was not the reaction Integra had ever in mind when imagining her employer, or anyone really, figuring out her ‘tale of woe’. He was calm, understanding and seemed outright intrigued.

“What do you think happened?” He finally inquired still lost in his own thoughts.

Integra’s mouth twitched. “His shotgun malfunctioned.”

“Is that really what you think?” Again he covered his lips with a hand, this time in a thinking gesture. “Are you sure you did not lure him into the woods? Talking of wolfs and corpses? Before feeding him to your friends?”

Integra was alarmed over his last words, before recognising an impish smile behind his hand. She appreciated that he was trying to lighten the conversation, so she gave back: “My friends the beasts and imps and ghosts?”

Even though she was not smiling he recognized her slight amusement. She was clearly thankful for the opportunity to change the subject. “What made you stop them from eating me then?”

The governess only considered her answer a short moment. “The sad truth is, they did not think you tasty enough.”

Mr Rochester’s roaring laughter resounded though the living room once again and this time Integra actually noticed its pleasantness. After a short moment of composure and silence he asked more serious: “And what do you think it was you actually saw on that path?”

“It does not matter.” Integra shook her head, as if the movement could not just make the memory but the object of her worries itself go away. “It is gone. I am here. And I am save.”

“So, you are.” Mr Rochester agreed and let his hand gesture through the room. “And I might add that I have no objection to keeping it that way. As long as you always speak your mind as freely as you did today.” The man of the house nodded approvingly, then grabbed and emptied his glass. His attention was resting on Integra.

“Thank you.” The governess was actually relieved to see her employer so accepting of her past and presence. This employment, even though lonely at times, had been the change Integra had wanted since childhood. All her life, her past had been one reason for hesitation. She knew that the impartial understanding of her situation was far from the norm of things. But after their short conversations, she also did not consider Edward Fairfax Rochester anything remotely ordinary.

Her own thoughts kept her from recognizing his lingering gaze. “Remember, as long as you will speak your mind.” He slowly put the empty glass down on the table. “I can see in you the glance of a curious sort of bird. Through the close-set bars of a cage. A vivid, restless captive. If put free, I reckon, it would soar cloud high…”

Integra’s eyes found the carped pattern once more. This time she recognised it as a complicated entanglement of roses, vines and thorns intersecting towards a center.

“It is late,” she uttered and tried to hide an embarrassing blush. “And as you can imagine, I had a very exciting day.”

“Of course.” He got up when she did. “I will be looking forward to our future conversations.”

Integra nodded with a smile on her face, but her thoughts were running unsettling and wild.

What curious stranger her employer had turned out to be.

 

~ ~ ~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally this key scene changes according to the different characters and changed backstories. I will keep using some parts of the dialogue of the movie, since it is written and executed so skillfully.
> 
> Sorry for taking so long to finish this chapter. Like I wrote before I am a little busy, so the updates will be irregularly.


	3. Broken Porcelain

Integra kept spinning the globe slowly, pointing to certain points and countries. She was teaching Seras about the different colonies and parts of the Empire. Today she was concentrating on the history of New Zealand and Australia. Seras was a very curious child. It was easy enough to teach her when putting history like a story, even easier if Integra could offer some snippets of folklore.

Sometimes, though, talking about these faraway places she only knew from books, made the governess feel melancholic. She would never be able to visit these colonies with her own eyes. After Seras had coaxed this truth out of the teacher, the girl swore: “I will see all of them someday. I will be a famous discoverer and find my own country. And we will have the greatest stories and the greatest people and I will be knighted for it!”

Integra smiled and gave back: “Of course you will.”

Shortly after, Seras had to write a letter to a fictive correspondence in French, just to show Integra the progress they were making in learning the language. The older woman was determined to make Seras speak French in a pleasant way, since the girl was still having trouble not butchering her mother language.

While the tip of Seras feather scratched over parchment, Integra looked out of the windows, to the cloudy horizon. She found that her thoughts found their way more often than not asking herself questions about the house’s owner, who had returned little more than a week ago.

They never saw him before afternoon, sometimes not even before sundown. He had explained it was for the schedule he had been adapting while traveling. But beyond that he did not seem to work on changing anything about it. They would have dinner in the late afternoon but Mr Rochester would hardly ever join them, even if he was apparently up and running. If he did sit down, he only drank a glass of wine and asked about their day, Seras’ progress, or the happenings on the estate. After Seras went to bed he and Integra made some light conversation. But still uncertain about the stranger and his sometimes right out weird demeanour, Integra would excuse herself as fast as courtesy allowed. He did not seem to mind and let her slip away every time without any implication of stopping her.

Her employer seemed to appreciate her company, after all he kept coming back to make some more cryptic conversation. Meanwhile, Integra was not sure if she enjoyed his, since it made her feel as much uncomfortable as it entertained her at times. Somehow he was an impossibly inappropriate man without being outright inappropriate. He had a way of lingering gazes, weird innuendos and uncertain implications, yet without ever crossing a line Integra had drawn early-on in their conversations. Sometimes, he would share short snippets of travels or other ‘old memories’, as he would call them. It seemed to give only a slight insight into the knowledge and experience the gentleman had gathered all his life. Integra found she was most intrigued by these stories and was curious to hear more.

 “Did you hear about the dogs?” Seras’ question startled Integra, who had been lost in thought.

She turned around to the girl. “Dogs?”

“All our dogs have run off.” Seras had stopped writing. She herself looked outside the windows now. “Harriett told.”

To Integra knew the estate had about five or six dogs, some for hunting, some for guarding. “What do you mean, they run off?” Integra shook her head in confusion. Sometimes that maid Harriett talked more than was good for her own good, and for Seras’ in that matter.

“Some run off, some disappeared.” The pupil played with her lips, not noticing that she was smearing ink on them. “Like they were scared or somethin’”

The thought unsettled Integra so much, that she even forgot to scold Seras for her disuse of language.

“And Walter is acting strange too, lately.” It slipped Seras before she had assessed the thought. Her hand clasped in front of her mouth. She knew her words had been incredibly rude. “Sorry— I mean, forgive me”, she corrected.

“You do well to look at your own behaviour, Miss Seras. I was under the impression you have a letter to finish?” Integra finally scolded and tried to keep the creeping disquiet as much out of her voice as possible. Seras nodded guilty and returned to her writing. Finally noticing the ink on her lip by tasting it, she wiped the dark smear off her face by using her sleeve.

Integra suppressed a sigh. Indeed Walter had been acting strangely ever since Mr Rochester had returned. He was sneaking around the house. Sometimes she ran into him without even noticing he had been there. The butler was eying Mr Rochester oddly whenever the two men were in proximity of each other. While Walter was still polite towards Integra and Seras, he seemed to question every decision, word and action of his master, even though often times only with a shifty look. Of course he kept executing his work with impeccable accuracy, still something about him just seemed—off.

Integra figured that she was not the only one, who found Mr Rochester’s quirks disarming at times. Walter must have had similar thoughts to cause such a reaction to his master, a man Walter had only spoken fondly of before his arrival. At least Seras seemed content and unquestionably happy. In the end, this was everything that mattered to Integra. After all, it was her job to ensure the girls progress and constitution.

 

~ ~ ~

 

That night Mr Rochester did not join them for dinner.

So instead of making conversation with the gentleman of the house, Seras told Integra all about the persona she had been imagining for her non-existent correspondence from France: A girl named Adèle Varens, who had a childish passion for dancing and shared Seras’ love for odd stories. Coincidentally, she was an orphan just like Integra’s pupil and a ward to a rich gentleman as well. Integra figured the girls would have a lot to talk about and she was looking forward to reading more of her letters in the future. Meanwhile, Integra would try and find a real correspondence for Seras to write to.

The women ended the uneventful day by saying good night to Walter and each other.

Although fairly tired after some late reading by candle light, the governess did not seem to fall into Morpheus’ arms that night. Seras’ words kept Integra awake, as they had done often times within these last months. What would cause the dogs to run off like that? What possible explanation could be given for all the animals to disappear at once? _A storm perhaps._ Animals were known to have some instincts that told them when rapid weather changes could become a serious threat. _That must be it._

As hard as she tried to hold on to it, this kept not being the thought occupying Integra’s mind that night. The governess knew enough about wildlife to recognise that a more powerful predator could cause the same reaction. She shook her head dismissively, but could not stop herself from reliving the happenings, that had occurred ten days ago. The shadow— the wolf— the beast— _the illusion_. 

Voices caused Integra to sit up. First she feared she had gone mad from thinking too many horrid thoughts. But then she could clearly make out a muddled woman’s voice, hysteric and angry sounding.

Integra did not recognise it. Confused more than frightful, the governess lit a match to light her candle and put on her glasses. With bare feet on cold floor, she put on her dressing gown and made her way out of her bedroom. Slowly following the voice, but keeping her surroundings in mind. Integra had to stop at times, not to get scared by the figures and shadows her candle was painting on these old stone walls. Her tense steps let her to a part of the living quarters, she had presumed to be Mr Rochester’s. That thought alone made her stop and almost turn around, back to her room, slipping under the covers, like she had heard nothing out of the ordinary. After all, he was a single gentleman and she was in her night gown with bare feet and her hair down.

But the voice turned louder, insistent. Integra could almost make out words now. So she reconsidered and took the last steps to an old wooden door, not unlike the one to her own chambers. She pushed it open, after another moment of hesitation, although not after a weak knock. Integra stepped into the room, assessing the situation.

Her knock must have gone unnoticed, for the woman Integra had been hearing kept shouting: “I will not just let you get away with this. Use excuses or charming words as much as you want. You will have to pay for what you did!”

Integra was immediately glad she had not been heard. The shouting woman was holding a hunting knife. With her back turned towards Integra and the entrance door of the bedroom, she held the weapon threateningly. Mr Rochester was immediately noticing the governess, standing opposite the intruder. His hands were raised and his posture mostly unalarmed. His ever so knowing eyes did only waver from the knife for the short moment he looked up to Integra.

However, this was not the only threat present.

While the windows were shut, the fire from the aglow fireplace had spilled over to the carpet. Integra figured this was caused too by the apparent servant attacking her master. The flames were spreading only slowly, yet the room was filling with smoke. Soon enough the small fire would creep towards furniture and held potential to burn down the whole manor.

“You are making a mistake.” Mr Rochester said way too calm for a situation like this. He almost seemed to smile. But that could not be. Integra had to imagine it. “I am not the one you are seeking revenge of.” His hands seemed only raised to calm the servant woman, but not to defend himself.

“Liar,” the woman screamed. She could hardly be much older than Integra herself. “I want you to admit it! Say it!” The knife reflected the fire glow dangerously.

Integra quickly understood that there was no talking to this woman. Not when a calm and collected response like Rochester’s showed no effect on her. The desperation in the servant’s voice did not lead to any other conclusion. This woman was not just words. She was ready and enraged enough to act accordingly.

In the end, Integra acted out of a whim, more than making a conscious decision. She put down her candle and grabbed the vase that was standing on the same table. With quick and quiet strides, Integra crossed the short distance that separated her from the two people standing in the bed room. She raised the porcelain over her head and smashed it down in a fluid movement, just when the woman attempted an attack. The disgruntled servant woman went down. Blood flowing from her head. She came down next to the fire that was spreading over the carpet. Without pausing, the governess took off her dressing gown and used the fabric to extinguish the flames.

Only when the carpet fire was dealt with, she noticed that Rochester’s hands had joined her in her efforts. She chose not to concentrate on their close proximity, but instead had a good look at the woman, lying next to her. She was indeed about Integra’s age and one of the maids working in the kitchen on occasion. Integra had seen her few times before and recognized the distinct ginger hair. Her face was partially disfigured by an old burn mark. Polio in teenage years had caused a distinct limp, Integra had recognized in the moment of her attack. She knew her as the woman, whose sister had committed suicide the year prior, by throwing herself from the manors roof tops. Seras had often enough claimed that the woman’s spirit surely had to be wandering the halls of Thornfield ever since.

Relieved, Integra noticed that the maid did not seem wounded beyond a small scratch, where the porcelain had hid her head. Yet, she lay unconscious and the shattered material was scattered around her.

“You rescued me.” The voice almost talking into her hear, let her jump up a little. “That was some dramatic cause of action, I would not have expected from a lady as delicate as yourself.” Integra did not shy away just then, for she feared it would seem impolite. When the full realisation of her actions became clear to her, however, she wished she had.

The loss of her dressing gown caused her to feel uneasy immediately. She was sitting in front of the fireplace of her employer and single gentleman, only in her night gown and with her hair down. All on top of the fact that she had just knocked out another woman by destroying a vase, that was probably worth a month’s pay.

“I am so very sorry, Sir.” Integra grabbed the charts feeling embarrassed by her actions, the situation, the fact that she was here. The hand right next to hers reached out and tried to stop hers, but it was too late. Integra slit open a finger on a piece of porcelain, just as Mr Rochester’s grip had closed over it.

He sighed resigned but somehow— content? “You have done no wrong, Miss Fairbrook. In contrary, given the circumstances, you would have saved my life.”

The sudden touch finally caused her to look up to the man kneeling right next to her. He was wearing dark waist pants and a light, long sleeved shirt. Mr Rochester did not look like he was going out anytime soon, but it seemed just as less likely that he was intending to sleep within the next hour. Integra’s gaze skipped his exposed collarbone, before following up the sombre, somehow not even remotely greying hair, falling over his broad shoulders. Finally, her attention settled on his always smiling lips— his moustache— and just for the most fleeting of moments, Integra asked herself what it would feel like brushing over her skin. The thought let her cheeks turn dark.

Although, she doubted he was noticing her attentive eyes, for his intense gaze was fixed on Integra’s hand in his own, still bleeding. But as if he had read her thoughts, his glare tore apart from the red liquid slowly rolling over their joined hands. Instead he looked at her with an expression that she could only describe as hunger. Its intensity caused Integra do finally flinch away and get up. He followed her movement, letting go of her hand immediately.

“I should go.” Integra was trying to fixate on any possible point that was not part of the man standing in front of her. “I will get Walter. I am sure he will be helping you clearing this whole situation more satisfactory.” She gestured to the floor where the other woman was still lying unconsciously.

For a moment he kept silent, obviously waiting for Integra to look at him once more. When she did not, he replied: “She was infuriated, since I rejected her inappropriate advances.”

Integra shook her head embarrassed. “There is no need to explain yourself. This is none of my concern.” Her cheeks were burning. Somehow she knew he was lying. She just knew. But Integra did not care. She had to leave here, _now_. Some voice inside her head screamed it loud and clear. “I will get—”

She turned away to leave the room, but his hand wrapped around her wrist. “I’d rather you don’t.”

Integra stopped but did not turn to face him.

“I will tie her up and get her to town first thing I the morning.” His voice was soft. “No need to wake poor Walter in the middle of the night, don’t you think?”

It was said quiet and lit with a smile, but Integra understood the underlying request.

She nodded and finally looked back at him, over her shoulder. “If that is how you wish to handle it.”

The hunger in his dark gaze had not wavered. He let go of her wrist, brushing her wound with his fingertips. Her arm fell to her side.

“Good Night,” she uttered under her breath. Grabbing her candleholder, she slit out the door.

Integra did not hear his little laugh and echoing response. However, she chose to ignore that the wound on her hand had closed and the blood was gone.

 

~ ~ ~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo dear Reader,
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the terrible delay. As some of you might have read in the description, I am very preoccupied with the Reylo ship. I have read tons of fics and am planning to read some more. Somehow, it kept me from writing Alutegra but this is still my OTP all the way.  
> You might see some Reylo in the future, but I make no promises ;)  
> What can I say, tall dark men with issues, being intrigued by strong female leads seems to be my jam.
> 
>  
> 
> This now is the chap where things get, let’s say, interesting.


	4. The Lilly

The day after the incident Mr Rochester was gone.

When Integra got up the next morning, Walter informed her that his Master had left just before sun rise. Most likely for the house of the Lees.

“Mr Easton’s Place,” he had explained further, as if it meant anything to Integra, who had to swallow a lump from her throat.

She had been looking forward to asking Mr Rochester all the questions she had not been able to the night before. When she inquired as casually as possible about the red haired kitchen maid, Walter's attentive eyes showed suspicion. “You mean Emma?”

“Yes, that was her name.” She stepped next to Walter, helping him to fold some linen. This would usually be a job for one of the maids, but since Mr Rochester was traveling most of the time and the house was understaffed, Walter had started doing these chores years back. “Have you heard anything about her?”

Seras was playing in the foyer, talking, dancing and singing. She had a way of re-enacting her favourite stories. Integra did not discourage the girl, since it got awfully lonely out here. Not having a peer her own age took its toll on the girl.

“Why would you ask about her?” Walter had paused in his movements, throwing a suspicious glance over the rim of his glasses, grey eyes studying Integra’s every move.

The governess chose her next words very carefully. Either the Butler had no knowledge of the incident involving servant girl and governess, or Mr Rochester had decided to leave Integra out of his report to spare her the embarrassment.

“I just learned about her sister, God rest her soul, wherever she may be.” Integra put down the piece of cloth she had been holding. Looking up she showed an apologetic smile. “I guess, however, I should not pry. After all, gossip never helped fixing anything.”

Apparently less suspicious now Walter returned the smile. “It most certainly helps disposing of the boredom, I suppose.”

Integra could not argue that.

“It was a very tragic thing. The girl, Alice, she jumped from the rooftops. No one really knows why. If she did know, Emma never told us. Since that day the girl behaved very differently. As far as I know Alice was her last remaining relative. Tuberculosis took her family, God rest their souls."

Integra nodded understanding. She felt sick to her stomach. Thinking back to her time at Lowood and how she had lost dear friends to the deadly disease. And even further back, her father, her mother. Suddenly she understood how such cruel conviction could have found its way into the girl’s voice. _Maybe_ , a small voice in her head stated, _Mr Rochester had something to do with her sister’s death?_ But that was ridiculous. He had not even been in Thornfield at the time.

“I thought you might know why the girl was absent this morning. She did not show up to work.” Walter explained his first suspicions. “Mrs Pool has complained about it. But now that Mr Rochester is with the Lees it is not all that important to prepare dinner to his usual standards.” The butler made a long and heavy pause. His gaze lingered on the ceiling. “Not that he would have eaten all that much since he has arrived.”

Integra had noticed this as well. He never really joined her for dinner, not in the dining sense. However, she did not dwell on the thought, since the governess felt once more like she had gotten a punch to the stomach. After the night before she had been full of excitement for the following day, for seeing him again, for asking about the girl and what would happen to her. But now is seemed Mr Rochester had brought the girl right into town, without telling Walter and even going out of his way to explain his absence by visiting neighbours of his. At least that was what Integra had concluded. After two weeks had passed without his return, Integra had realized that the stay at the Lees had not been pretence after all.

The girl, Emma, did not appear again either, not at Thornfield and not at the town. For some days the townsfolk and Thornfield staff kept looking for her. The police even searched the woods. In the end people assumed she had simply moved on and taken off in a hurry since she could not bear staying where her sister had killed herself. The rest of the staff had noticed her depression ever since Alice’s death. Some even presumed she had chosen the same fate as her sister.

The questions Walter asked her and other staff members showed Integra, that no one except for her knew of the incident that had occurred that night. She did not say a word to anyone. The underlying request of discretion echoed still through her head. Integra was not sure what Mr Rochester had been done to Emma. Despite the girls vicious attack the governess hoped in her heart he had sent the girl somewhere else, somewhere save, somewhere she might start anew. Over their conversations, Integra had come to the conclusion that Mr Rochester was surprisingly understanding, when it came to misfortune. After all, he had chosen to ignore her gruesome past. Maybe he had granted the same compassion to Emma. Yet, Integra wished he would return, so she could ask him. Only for that reason and no other, she told herself, while the days became dull and forlorn once again.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“He stays because of Miss Blanch Ingram, I am sure of it.” Integra startled, almost dropping a book, she had been showing to Seras earlier in the day. “I was sure he would propose to her, before he took off to his travels.” She turned towards the butler. Walter had not mentioned a woman since Mr Rochester’s leave. They only knew he was still at the Leeds’ because he had been sending for clothes and other items.

Walter sat down in front of the fire place in the upper hall. His work for today was done and so was Integra’s. Seras had gone to bed already. For his age, the old butler was good on his feet but came the evening he seemed glad to put them up.

Integra had been collecting the different books and papers scattered over Seras’ desk. Her hands rested after hearing Walter’s words. “An engagement?”

“Would be about time too.” Walter laughed. “Thornfield needs a lady and Mr Rochester a proper wife and an heir. The dandy life does not suit him. Always traveling about. It would do him good to rest his capricious soul and temper.” He took a sip from his cup.

“And I suppose, you deem Miss Ingram the right woman to do the job?” Integra studied her hands without turning towards the fire.

“To be honest, I hope she is.” Walter took another sip and put the cup down. He was sitting in the same spot Mr Rochester had on the day of his return. “He was very captivated with her in the last season. Rather thrilled, I would say. Maybe he thought her too young then. I heard people say she is the most lovely flower of the country side, with a smile that could even melt the coldest man’s heart and skin as white as porcelain.”

“Do they?” Walters last word brought Integra’s thoughts back to the last night she had seen Mr Rochester, the scattered porcelain and the drips of blood on the floor. She inspected the long healed cut and found the tiniest scar on one of her her ring fingers. “Sounds like a proper English rose.” Integra was enough in control to face Walter and take the seat opposite him. This was ridiculous. His words should not sting as much as they did. Her expression was unreadable.

“I dare say,” Walter handed her another cup, “she will need to be, if she wants to become Mrs Rochester.”

Integra took it with a thankful nod, lips pressed tightly together for a moment. “Let’s wait and see.”

They did not have to wait long.

Few days later a letter arrived at Thornfield Hall that had first Walter and then the whole staff up and running. When Integra stepped into the entrance hall she was nearly run over by one of the maids, caring one of the carpets in her arms. She apologized without looking back, moving fast to clean the dusty rug outside.

“What in the world has happened?” Integra was actually smiling a little when she stepped towards Walter, who watched another girl polish the silver ware. Some excitement seemed exactly what this old house needed.

“Miss Fairbrook!” Walter led Integra to the side, giving order to keep working to the girl. “Mr Rochester is coming back tomorrow.”

Integra’s smile grew wider, but it vanished when she caught herself smiling it. “So he returns after all.” At this point she had been expecting a note, informing them he had left the country.

Walter nodded but seemed rather upset. “He has given me directions to prepare all the rooms. I will have to get more staff from the George Inn.” He meant the pup in town. Integra was only half listening at this point, her excitement suppressed in the tight space of her chest, only noticeable by her clenched fists. “Miss Ingram is coming.” The governess froze. “Surly this means, he plans to propose to her.” Integra had never been gladder not to be looked at, than in this moment. Walter’s gaze was trailing off into the distance. “There are supplies to be got, the linen, mattresses…” His train of thought came to a halt. Even the trusty butler could only manage so much in a day of preparation time. “I will go to the George’s now… No… I will send Marther.” He turned to the girl cleaning the silver and left Integra standing by herself.

Integra did not follow the short conversation between butler and maid. She sucked in air and for a moment stood perfectly still. Without so much as another flinch, she turned towards the kitchen and started helping with the preparations. She would not stop or think about anything but work until she fell into her bed tired and exhausted.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Poor child. I had about half a dozen governesses in my day.” Miss Blanche Ingram, every ounce arranged beauty and playful coyness was the centre of attention. Her brown curls where falling perfectly around her delicate features. “All degenerates. Thank haven I am done with those detestable incubi.”

Mr Rochester’s laughter lit up the room. “What an interesting choice of words.”

Integra focused on the arrangement of white roses and lilies, decorating the ground floor and its living room. They had done a really lovely job. Within a day, Walter had transformed the old and dusty house into a sparkling clean mansion. The Leeds and their six grown children were sitting, arranged on sofas and cushions and divans, all resting after dinner. Through Walter Mr Rochster had insisted Integra and Seras should join them in the living room. But of course everyone would ignore the two of them, and talk like they were not actually present. Integra knew the young woman, who could hardly be older than herself, had not made the remark to spite her. For Blanche Ingram it was the conversation topic and as far as she was concerned, Integra was not more aware than the furniture around them.

Miss Ingram made her way through the room. Her perfume mixed with the heady smell of the bouquet. The governess kept her eyes focused on the flowers, when the other woman passed by. Her eyes were almost watering. She fixed her glasses and blinked. Integra’s gaze was forcefully kept on the white petals, so it would not linger on Mr Rochester’s back. The man was standing next to the fire place, resting his hand above it. It was not the fear, that people would notice her little fixation that kept her from looking his way. It was the fact, that he ignored her completely and Integra could not bear his cold shoulder.

Seras, however, starred open mouthed, listening to the conversation with apparent curiosity. Her eyes grew wide when she watched Miss Ingram sit down to play on Mr Rochester’s pianoforte. They grew even wider when Mr Rochester joined her to sing along. His rich baritone matched Miss Ingram’s light and pretty voice perfectly. Seras was so fascinated, she did not notice Integra getting up slowly and leaving the room. Mr Rochester did.

Integra was about to take the steps upstairs and disappear for the night, when his voice stopped her. “Why did you leave?” The pianoforte was a muffled sound in the distance.

Integra hesitated, resting one foot on the first step, one hand on the banister. She turned half in his direction. He stood expectantly, all red velvet, white fabric and dark angles. It was the first time she really looked at him since his return and it made her heart skip. His dark hair was tied up, only unruly strands in his eyes. As always his elegant clothes seemed like he was cast into them. Integra’s gaze only fluttered over his inquiring face.

“I feel rather out of place.” It was not meant to sound as disappointed as it did, so Integra looked away with a little blush on her cheeks. She cursed herself for it. She was not jealous, she kept telling herself. She had no right to be jealous. “I mean, it was a long day and I am just simply tired. I did not feel like company anymore.” What she felt like, was asking him about Emma, but she could hardly do that where everyone might overhear them.

“How disappointing” Mr Rochester closed the distance between them and came to a halt in front of her. “I had hoped you would be pleased to welcome me back.”

She looked up in surprise, achingly aware of his presents. Integra was determined to match his dark and searching eyes, not flinching away for once. “I am—” She paused unsure. “I mean, we all are glad to welcome you back, Mr Rochester, Sir.”

He stepped closer, his eyes a little hooded, yet he did not touch her. “I did not mean the staff. I meant you, personally.”

Integra’s mouth parted. She hesitated when she saw his eyes resting on her lips.

“I am”, she finally uttered, but it came out a whisper.

Her gaze too focused on his lips and rested there for a second. Her thoughts wandered, as they had many times within these past weeks. She had managed to suppress most of these phantasies, when Mr Rochester had not returned. Now that he was looking at her with those demanding eyes, all of her wanton thoughts returned in full force. When she realized, what places she was imagining his lips touching her, she turned around. Her hand wandered to her forehead. She felt too hot and dizzy, static dancing down her spine. This could not be a normal reaction. He was like a magnet her body was radiating towards. A hand was clenched on the balustrade. She had to get upstairs, before she made an utter fool of herself.

“What have you been doing while I was away?” His tone was conversational, as if the moment that had just passed between them, had been perfectly normal. She knew he must have felt it or he would at least have startled when she turned away so sudden.

“Teaching Seras.” She managed to utter, voice as calm as possible. One hand was still clutching, her knuckles white. The other fell to her side.

“I am sure you teach her well.”

The smile in his voice made Integra bold enough to look over her shoulder. She could hardly run off, while her employer was talking to her, so she tried to play her feelings down and to return his smile. “Thank you.” Her mind screamed _run_ , while her body wanted the absolute opposite. Yet, Integra knew what was polite and proper. He had to dismiss her or leave her be.

He raised a hand, reaching for her shoulder, no doubt to turn her around, to make her face him.

“Mr Rochester?” Walter had entered the entrance hall. Just one look of assessing the situation seemed to tell him more, than he needed to know. The hand of his Master was still hovering over Integra’s shoulder. The butler stiffened. “Your guests—” He paused. “Miss Ingram is asking for you.”

Mr Rochester’s hand sank. He was turning away from the governess. “In that case, I will not let my guests wait.” With long strides he made his way passed Walter, not looking back at Integra or at the other servant.

The butler’s attention rested on her back. She glanced at him. He was struggling for words, looking for the right ones to express his concern.

“Good Night, Walter.” Integra took him any chance to. Without looking back herself, she run up the stairs, leaving the elderly butler lost in thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it I? Yes! Yes, indeed I am still with the living.  
> Again I took some of the dialog directly from the movie but especially that last scene I altered, since the plot is varying. Certain plot points are just different.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that the next one won’t take as long.


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